#zabriel

[fortunatto]

something something whose voice was the voice of the Redeemer King

[clamfairy]

commission.

[greygerbil]

"The Lion had managed to frame events in a manner that credited the people of Avalus for resisting against an enemy that had beaten Camarth, yet also highlighted the determination of the Camarthans to recover from such a disaster. He might not have been gifted with the same skills of diplomacy as some of his brothers, but I had already noted this change in him during our time on Camarth."

The Lion: Son of the Forest by Mike Brooks

Love how Zabriel describes that the Lion is tentatively discovering the social branch on the skill tree for the first time after his 10k year nap.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Zabriel: The Lone Knight

Alright everyone, this is my first time posting smut and it's about my boy Zabriel from Lion Son of the Forest. It's criminal how little fics he has about him despite easily being the most interesting character there.

He's protective of his baselines, he's been alone for over 400 years, he was suicidal, he meditates, he snarks back to the Lion, he is the perfect man and you cannot tell me he didn't have sex when he was a renegade.

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Zabriel woke up in his room aboard the Pax Fortitudinis and immediately scanned his surroundings. 

Despite it having been over a Solar year since he had reunited with the Lion, he remained wary of his surroundings and the people around him. Isolated for over 4 centuries, it felt like a sin to even rest fully, without leaving half his brain awake and alert. 

It took a few moments to remind himself that he was no longer alone, that he was among allies who valued and respected him. If he stepped foot outside of his room, he would be met with salutes and polite greetings, not fear and a lingering unspoken threat of leaking his presence to the Unforgiven.

Speaking of the Unforgiven, there was one present aboard his ship. A fact that he would normally have reacted to with consternation and sullenness. However, the young Primaris marine, Camael, had grown on him quickly. Due in no small part to their shared disdain for the Firstborn Dark Angels of the 41st Millennium.

From Camael, he learned of how Azrael and Asmodai and their ilk deliberately kept the existence of the Fallen a secret from them, along with treating them like outsiders that they were forced to fight alongside of. Needless to say, when the time came, many Primaris chose to join the newly minted ‘Risen’ in their efforts to find more of their members over staying with the Unforgiven. It was beneficial for both parties, as the Risen were eased into the current workings of the Imperium, and the Primaris learned of their chapter's history and traditions.

He wasn't expected to meet with his brother or any of the baselines in charge of the ship anytime soon, since they weren't expected to reach their destination for another two weeks.

Zabriel sighed and began to fix his bed. He would meditate first, then spend some time sparring with Caelus. For all their vaunted speed and strength, the Primaris weren't as well trained as him, and beating his little brother in the practice cages would improve his mood and Caelus’ skill. Afterwards he would spend some time discussing the mission and the proper path to reach their destination with the shipmistress and navigators.

But first, he needed to clear his mind.

Zabriel sat at the edge of his bed and pulled out his cock from his loose drawstring trousers. He had made sure to lock the door to his room, along with informing the serfs to not disturb him during his meditation. That is not a lie, he will meditate after his morning ritual. One that he is certain will find its way back to the Unforgiven if he isn't careful. As much as he likes Caelus, he still doesn't fully trust him.

While it's rare for Astartes to feel the needs of the flesh, it's not unheard of, and provided one doesn't draw attention to it, most in the legion will look the other way. Although most are probably not masturbating every day, that would draw the ire of a chaplain. 

The Lion for his part knew of his son's practice, and how they came to be. He had informed him of it when his father had caught him back in those early days in Camarth. Surprisingly, he took it well, and was just happy he hadn't fallen to chaos.

As it was, Zabriel found it difficult to feel ashamed of one of the few things that kept him going during those long, lonely centuries. As he stroked his member, he closed his eyes and thought of the woman who started this practice in the first place.

He had found himself in lower levels of a hive city, far enough away from the prying eyes of his little brothers and other Imperial officials. Though, the underhive had its own dangers, chiefly the wars between hive gangers, or if the hive was particularly cursed, chaos and genestealer cults.

The wars between the various gangs were of no interest to him, as was the petty crime that the underhives seemed to run on, but the genestealer and chaos cultists were something he intended to destroy. Such threats must be killed before they can pose a bigger problem later down the line. It was similar to his previous work as a deathwing with the legion. Take out dangerous threats quickly and quietly and move on to the next one. It was a familiarity that grounded him.

It was during one of these raids that he came across a young woman hiding from a Khorne cultist. He barely gave the woman or her attacker a second thought as he put a bullet through the cultist’s head. 

When the woman followed him, he merely thought that she was scared and wanted to stick close to him to stay safe. That theory was challenged when she stuck close to him even after he had led her to a safer area.

Zabriel’s paranoia kicked in, had he misjudged this woman? Was she also touched by chaos? 

“Why do you follow me?” He had no doubt that the low growl of his vox had scared the woman, but he cared not. 

The woman stopped and looked up at him in fear, “I want to thank you my lord.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“No! Please let me offer you my thanks.”

His red eye lenses focused on her face, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Her face coloured, “I’m a joygirl my lord. If you permit me…”

The offer remained unsaid but was understood. Had he still been a member of his legion, he would have killed her for such insolence. But he wasn’t with his legion anymore, he was a renegade, already deemed as less than the scum beneath his feet by his brothers in the modern era, so why shouldn’t he indulge himself, if only for the experience.

The woman shrank down against his glare and prepared herself for the worst. She had only wanted to show her appreciation in the only way she knew how, but it was obvious now that she had offended the angel. She wondered how she was going to explain this to the Emperor when she met him.

“Fine. Follow me into that alley way, I don't want anyone to see us.”

This was foolish. She was foolish. He was foolish. Why would this mortal follow him into a potential trap, why was he fiddling around with his armour? Throne, he was a failure to the Emperor's vision. Who was he kidding, he knew why she trusted him, why he was going through with this action. Because she had faith in him, and he had faith that this act won't damn him.

Zabriel pulled out his cock after delicately removing his groin plate. If he died from getting head then so be it.

The woman carefully looked at his member, as if to analyze it, then she knelt down. 

He felt her mouth on his crotch, the heat alone nearly drove him insane. She worked on his rod expertly, and he wasn’t embarrassed to say that he came almost immediately. Why would he feel shame about such a thing? If anything, it was a compliment to her skill.

The marine’s heart pounded from the release, and for a moment he felt rage at having been denied such a thing. While he logically knew of all the reasons as to why astartes weren’t allowed conjugal relations, a petulant part of him still railed against the perceived injustice.

He refitted his armour as the woman wiped his spend from her face. For a moment, he didn’t see her as a baseline he was obligated to protect, but as a woman who had given him one of the best experiences of his life. In a moment of uncharacteristic softness he turned to the baseline.

“Tell me woman, what is your name?” 

The hiver was surprised that he was actually speaking to her, but she recovered fairly quickly, “Bequa, my lord.”

“I thank you for your gift Bequa.”

The woman’s pale face coloured deeply, “You’re welcome my lord. If it is possible, may I see your face?”

Such a request would have been deemed impertinent by a younger him, but in that moment, it only felt right that she should see the face of the man she had serviced. He unlatched his helmet, uncaring if it was a trap. The simple act of giving in to his base desires had made him lighter, calmer, more content.

Bequa took in the marine’s face. He looked stunning. Dark, tanned skin that was a deep contrast to her own underhive pale, along with surprisingly soft dark blue eyes. Zabriel looked exactly like what she thought astartes would be like. 

“You’re beautiful my lord.”

Now it was the angel’s turn to be taken aback. “I- thank you.”

They separated soon after, and yet he couldn’t push away her memory from his mind. The encounter was one of random chance and luck, and yet its effects seemed to have spread through him like a balm on his lonely soul.

Zabriel knows enough about chaos to know that this feeling wasn’t chaos corruption. Those who fall to Khorne want nothing more than to dominate, those who fall to Slaanesh want nothing more than to experience more and more extreme pleasure, Nurglite corruption causes one to stagnate, to find comfort in the suffering, and Tzeentchian corruption leads to a person to seek answers to and to create more and more complex plots. 

He fits into none of those categories, he doesn’t want to dominate, he’s content with what he has, his will to protect humanity has been replenished, and any complex questions he had about this new era has been quieted. Dare he say it, it felt like the actions of the Emperor, if he would ever deign to stoop so low as to arrange for a renegade space marine to gain sexual experience.

In the years following, he would end up having more trysts with baselines. A guardswoman who taught him about penetrative sex after he saved her from a feral ork, a techpriest who asked him to kiss him with his dying breath. He regrets none of these things, they kept him going during those dark, lonely days when it felt pointless to be alive.

Zabriel let out a grunt as his spend splattered on the floor. His head tilted back as he closed his eyes basking in the moment of release. As he came to several moments later, he grabbed his washcloth and cleaned up the mess and stepped into his personal showers. As the more experienced marine, Zabriel had the privilege of having his own washroom while Caelus had to share the communal showers with the baselines.

Having recentered himself, he prepared to begin the day.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

With Lion sailing into Ultramar, you think we'll hear about Zabriel again? I'd like to hear about M'kia too, but I doubt GW is gonna waste any time on a pesky baseline.

[e3n-ethan]

Zabriel. Honey. Idk how to break this to you.

People did sieges before the Dark Angels existed.

[doctorfroggimoggi]

Zabriel and Corvus have some random guessing added here

[incorrect-grim-hollow-quotes]

Venin: If you put a milkshake in one yard and crack open a cold one in another yard, which yard would the boys go to? Beleth: Schrödinger's boys. Tormach: FUCK! Sitri: What about cracking open a cold milkshake? Zabriel: As we all know, the milkshake brings the boys to the yard. The presence of the boys is a prerequisite for the cracking open of a cold one, but cold ones do not have any inherent boy-attracting abilities. Milkshakes, however, do. Zabriel: All else being equal, the boys would proceed to the milkshake yard. While it is possible to announce the presence of cold ones in the hope of attracting some boys, the pull of the milkshake is much more powerful by comparison. Venin: ... Beleth: ... Tormach: ... Sitri: ... Zabriel: Mind you, all of this nonsense hinges on whether or not the boys are back in town.